Call me Kathryn
by Sam C
Summary: A personal interlude between adventures. Janeway tries to reconcile her past with the present, knowing that she must find a way to do so before she loses the person whom she loves.  4th in series but can be read as a standalone! J/7.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the fourth in the series after 'Distress Call', 'House Call' and 'Call to Arms'. You don't have to read those to enjoy this, but it's probably a good idea as some elements of the story won't make sense otherwise.

All stories in this series feature a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes. If you don't like that, don't read this – otherwise, enjoy!

As always, your comments and reviews are welcome.

**Part 1**

"I agreed to meet the Captain, despite your recommendation that I suggest a more suitable time. However, I would appreciate any further advice you can offer."

Seven-of-Nine was in Astrometrics, oblivious of the late hour – or early hour more precisely – and talking to the Doctor over the comm system. Yet again she was grateful that Voyager's Chief Medical Officer was a hologram and therefore available any time of day or night. That didn't guarantee that he wouldn't be irritable on being disturbed, but at least one could expect the same reception no matter what the time of day.

"I specifically suggested, Seven, that you turn down the Captain's invitation, at least until tomorrow!" The Doctor's annoyance at being ignored was evident in his tone. "Call her back and tell her you're busy!"

Seven was not above showing irritation herself, and her reply was acerbic. "I will not comply. I wish to see Captain Janeway, and to talk to her. Doctor, do you know why she became upset when she and I were last together?"

Speaking in a low voice, the hologram replied, wishing that he was able say more to help his friend but at the same time knowing that he could never betray his captain's trust. "Yes, I do. But it's something you'll have to discuss with her yourself. I thought it would take a while for the Captain to be able to talk with you about…things, which is why I was surprised when you said she had asked you to her quarters."

"Perhaps she wishes to speak about other matters, Doctor? Or, as I have observed happen with humans after they have done something they wish they had not done, perhaps she simply intends to act as though nothing amiss occurred?"

"You're talking about humans as though you aren't one, Seven. But you're right, that does seem to happen quite frequently. At times I am glad to be made of photons and force fields – they don't get embarrassed quite so easily as flesh and blood." The Doctor chuckled to himself. "But," he continued, "I doubt that Captain Janeway will try to pretend that nothing happened. It's too important. Will you at least listen to one piece of advice I'm going to give you?"

"Of course," answered Seven immediately. She always listened, but often chose not to follow other people's words of wisdom.

"Since you are…who you are, I'm going to be blunt. Let the Captain talk, listen to her. Ask questions if you feel it's right, but not if they make her uncomfortable. And, Seven – this is important – don't make any more sexual advances towards her, at all. That's got to come from the Captain, and it's going to be difficult for both of you. Do you understand?" The Doctor wondered if he had said too much, even though he had not breached confidentiality in any way.

"I understand. Thank you, Doctor, and good night." Seven remembered to be polite even in her eagerness to end the conversation and make her way to deck three.

**Part 2**

Tom Paris couldn't sleep. He'd tried – crikey, had he tried! – but his persistent partner kept prodding him awake or simply talking loudly enough to have the same effect. B'Elanna Torres was the Chief of Engineering, Chief Gossip and currently, thought Tom, Chief Pain-in-the-Arse. Enough was enough. Pushing the covers off, he sat upright in their bed.

"Okay, B'Elanna. I'm awake, but if you really want to talk I suggest we get some coffee." He pushed himself to his feet and, after pulling on a blue robe, stumbled from the bedroom into the living room of their shared quarters, making a beeline for the replicator.

"Two coffees, strong, black."

Torres wasn't far behind, and accepted the proffered mug with a satisfied grin. "Thanks. So, now that you're actually listening, I'll start again." They sat on separate sofas, facing each other. "The Captain told me that she loves Seven, and Seven told you that she loves the Captain. So how come they didn't speak a word to each other today?"

"You don't know that," said Tom, shaking his head.

B'Elanna shot him a look, the meaning plain.

"Okay, so you do know that. I won't ask how," he added, knowing that he would probably disapprove of the Klingon's answer if he were to ask. "But, as I've said before – and I've lost count of the number of times – it's none of our business!"

"They are our friends, Tom. Well, kind of. But anyway, I wonder what's gone wrong? Captain Janeway couldn't get off the bridge fast enough after the Relativity left, and you said she never showed up again. Seven was in Engineering until gone 21:00 hours, working on the quantum torpedoes, and the computer logs said she didn't contact anyone; besides, I was there with her." Torres's eyes shone with excitement as she delved deeper, and it occurred to Paris that she would have made an excellent detective back in the days when they were needed.

His partner's interest was contagious, and without thinking he offered an opinion. "It must be personal – Seven hasn't done anything against regulations since she punched Chakotay, and that was only because of the alien intruder winding everyone up. I reckon they've had a fight."

"That's what I thought," agreed Torres, "but what about? What could Captain Janeway and Seven fight about?"

"I don't know. Could be anything, B'Elanna – think about some of the things we've argued about. What to have for dinner, whether to play chess or velocity, whose turn it is to put the washing in the recycler."

"Oh, come on. The Captain's above petty things like that, and I can't see Seven getting worked up about small stuff. Anyway, they don't live together, so that cuts out most of the potential issues." Torres paused, thinking hard as she sipped her scalding, bitter coffee. "No. It's more than that. I wonder if they've had sex yet?"

"_B'Elanna!_" Tom spluttered, a mouthful of coffee spraying out over his robe. "That – how can you? - It's, well, it's -"

Torres flashed a wicked smile, indicating that she was not about to drop the subject. "Seven's presumably never done it before. The Captain's been alone for five years, and between you and me I suspect she wouldn't have been sleeping with her fiancé since she got back from her last mission prior to taking captaincy of Voyager."

Despite his hesitance to question his partner's statements, Tom found this snippet so intriguing he couldn't help himself. "And what on Earth makes you say that?" he asked incredulously, picturing Torres outside their Captain's house back on Earth, up a tree with a pair of binoculars. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, B'Elanna was reluctant to speak. She had promised Chakotay years ago, once they and the other Maquis had felt truly at home on Voyager, that she would never tell anyone what they knew about Kathryn Janeway's past. Yet Tom was her partner, whom she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, and it didn't feel right to keep things from him. In the end, he made the decision for her.

"It's okay; I can see that it's something you don't want to talk about. I'm guessing you know something I don't and that you can't tell me. But do you think that whatever it is that you've just thought about has anything to do with the Captain and Seven now?"

Torres nodded slowly, her heart sinking as she tried to put herself in the Captain's position, knowing what she knew. It was too difficult, and if it was difficult for her then she couldn't imagine what Janeway had endured, and was still suffering as it affected her relationship, her physical and emotional connection with someone she clearly loved.

"I think so. But I don't know how they will get through it. Maybe they won't, maybe it will be too hard. Tom, I think you should talk to Seven again soon. She will need a friend, if I'm right."

Without waiting for a reply, Torres addressed the computer. "Computer, locate Seven-of-Nine."

_Seven-of-Nine is in Turbolift 2._

"What is the turbolift's destination?"

_Deck three._

Paris and Torres stared at each other, both realising the implications.

"Good luck, Captain," whispered B'Elanna.

Tom smiled. "Good luck, Seven," he replied in a soft murmur. Neither he nor Torres would sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

Captain Janeway stood absolutely still in the middle of her spacious living room. Now that she had invited Seven-of-Nine to her quarters at this ungodly hour there was no going back. Chest thumping, stomach in turmoil, the handsome Captain couldn't imagine what she would say to her friend. Janeway had taken out a bottle of wine, then put it back, deciding it was too late, or early. The brandy went the same way, as did a light snack. The only thing that remained was a pot of coffee, steaming merrily on a low table, forming a circle with two mugs, a sugar shaker, milk jug, cream jug and spoons standing to attention in a tasteful metal rack, completing a bizarre coffee-henge.

As often happened in times such as these, Janeway's inner voice sounded, forcing her to listen to herself and face her own thoughts. _'Just tell her the truth,' _it urged, and the Captain grimaced. _'She probably knows all about your past anyway – she was Borg.'_

"No," argued Janeway out loud. "Picard was assimilated before my experience with the Cardassians. Unless another Captain was assimilated after Voyager lost contact with Starfleet, and before we rescued Seven…"

'_A period of three years,' _reminded the little voice, _'which is perfectly plausible.'_ It had a point, Janeway knew, but although the thought had already occurred to her she had refused to consider it. If Seven was aware of her capture and subsequent torture at the hands of Cardassian soldiers, surely she would have said something once they had become lovers?

'_You didn't mention it to her either, Kathryn. Instead, you let it harm your relationship with Seven, almost as soon as it had begun.'_

"I know!" shouted Janeway, anguish plain in her tone. "That's why I'm standing here in my quarters at 02:10 hours waiting for her – to try to fix it!"

'_Tell her everything,'_ the voice advised softly, _'and then see what happens.'_

**Part 2**

Several decks down, Seven-of-Nine was having an entirely different conversation. She had been in a turbolift, rising through the ship towards Deck Three, when suddenly she felt panic inside her rising faster than the speeding elevator. After leaning against the wall and breathing deeply, the young ex-Borg had ordered a change of destination. Exiting on Deck Nine, Seven listened unashamedly outside the quarters belonging to Lieutenants Torres and Paris, the thought that she was in effect eavesdropping not even entering her head, for her reasons were entirely justifiable. Hearing muted voices inside, the Borg had pressed the door chime and was now inside, speaking to Paris who had somehow – the process not clearly understood by either party – become a friend.

"So what exactly happened, Seven?" Paris was seated in a wooden chair, facing the blonde woman across a table. It was a measure of her distress that, when invited, she had sat down without protest. Her ice-blue eyes appeared dull and red-rimmed, her long hair threatening to escape its stylish arrangement.

"Whilst we were…being intimate, the Captain suddenly pulled away and wished to cease the activity. She offered no explanation and refused to have further physical contact of an intimate nature. In fact, Captain Janeway had not spoken to me since then until she contacted me a few minutes ago."

Paris frowned, wishing he had not had the conversation with Torres earlier, for he now knew that his partner was well aware of the cause of the problems between the Captain and Seven. B'Elanna had not told him, though, for which he was grateful. "I see. So the Captain was fine with things up to a point, then suddenly she wasn't. Have you any idea why?"

"I have not," replied Seven firmly, meeting Paris's eyes without hesitation. "Perhaps she no longer wishes to continue our relationship?"

"It doesn't sound like that," mused Tom. "Usually if a woman decides she's had enough, it's more of a gradual thing. It sounds like something made her nervous, frightened her." He had almost forgotten that it was the Captain they were talking about, instead focusing on it as giving a friend advice about her oddly-behaving girlfriend.

Seven-of-Nine was quiet for a moment, thinking about her next words. When she spoke, her tone was low and hesitant. "We – I touched her, in a more intimate way than before. It was then that the Captain's demeanour changed, as though it hurt her, but emotionally rather than physically. Her response was not that of pain but of fear."

Tom Paris reached out his arm and patted Seven's mesh-covered hand gently, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Well, she wants to see you, Seven. Obviously she is ready to talk about whatever it is that's bothering her. Go up to her, listen to what she has to say and try to be…understanding, and patient. Relationships can be very complicated, Seven, and she's probably feeling worse than you are right now."

"I understand. Thank you, Tom." Seven got up to leave, and Paris followed her to the door where they paused.

"No problem; any time. Good night."

**Part 3**

Most people could only sustain restless pacing for a short time, and Kathryn Janeway was no exception. Her antique wall clock, a teak-rimmed face bearing two delicately-wrought silver hands moved by a clockwork mechanism, showed the time to be 2.28am. Yawning, Janeway threw the remainder of the coffee down her throat, hoping the caffeine would awaken her. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea, she thought wryly, dragging herself from her favourite armchair. The sturdy figure heaved upright and moved to the replicator station.

"Pot of coffee, black," she ordered. Then as an afterthought, continued, "and a mild medical stimulant, tablet form."

_This item is restricted. State authorisation code._

Technically, according to regulations, only medical staff had access to drugs, even run-of-the-mill painkillers and indigestion remedies, the theory being that out in space on a Starship, the Chief Medical Officer needed to be aware of any medical issue, however slight, in case it turned out to be more than it appeared. However, after Voyager's entire medical staff had been killed during the encounter with the Caretaker alien who had catapulted them into the unknown Delta Quadrant, Janeway had ordered all medical authority transferred to herself. When the Doctor was established in his position, the codes were all transferred back, with the minor adjustment made by the Captain that she was able to request level one medication – analgesics, mild stimulants and relaxants, dermal regenerators and so on – without having to inform the Doctor.

"Authorisation Janeway nine-nine-nine-pi."

She swilled down the small, blue tablet with more coffee, and felt immediately more alert. Just as she was about to resume her place in the chair, the door chirped almost apologetically, and Janeway's overwhelming emotion was worry, despite her annoyance at being kept waiting.

"Come in," she called, rising from her chair once again.

**Part 4**

"You two certainly seemed very chatty," remarked B'Elanna Torres, her voice muffled as she lay sprawled across the bed, face buried in a pillow. She let out an 'oomf' as Paris pushed her determinedly back to her side, and she sat upright and glared at her partner. "I take it  
Seven was asking your advice about the Captain? Did she say what happened?"

Paris was reluctant to break Seven's confidence, even with his partner, and his reply was nonchalant. "Not really. I think she was worried about talking to the Captain, but she's on her way there now. Let's get some sleep, shall we?"

Torres punched him in the shoulder, and not gently. "Was it to do with sex? Because that's what I-"

"B'Elanna," interrupted the young helmsman firmly, "that's enough. It's late, I'm tired, and we both have duty shifts tomorrow." He pecked her on the cheek, then lay down and closed his eyes, willing his feisty half-Klingon girlfriend to do the same. Eventually she did so, albeit accompanied by low mutterings that threatened to come back to haunt him in the morning.

**Part 5**

Seven stood in the doorway, her blonde hair falling around her slender shoulders, released from its usual bonds. She appeared fragile and dull, framed against the light of the corridor. The tall woman still wore her Starfleet-style green uniform, replicated for her by Janeway and worn proudly by the ex-Borg ever since. A moment of silence dragged on, both women affected by the sight of the other. Janeway was dressed in creased jeans and a rumpled lilac shirt, but appeared alert, surprising Seven. It was the Captain who spoke first.

"Please, come in, Seven." Her voice was soft yet neutral, giving away nothing of her inner turmoil. Janeway raised a hand, indicating towards a chair opposite Janeway's own, and the younger woman took it without speaking, sitting straight and seemingly ill at ease, though whether that was the result of the circumstances in which they were meeting or simply due to being seated Janeway was unsure.

With a steady hand, she poured two mugs of fresh coffee, pushing one towards Seven and clasping the other with both hands, her long fingers wrapped around and interlaced at the back. Janeway was finding it difficult to meet her companion's eyes, and after several attempts she stopped trying, instead focusing on her mug, watching ghostly wisps rise from the swirling, dark surface. She knew she should speak, for it was at her request that the other woman was there, in her quarters, waiting no doubt for an explanation of her behaviour. Janeway was the Captain of the ship, a confident, strong woman who had faced a multitude of murderous enemies with courage and steely determination, yet faced with this intensely personal battle she felt herself faltering. _'Go on, Kathryn,'_ the tiny voice prodded. _'She won't wait forever.'_

One more deep breath, one more sip of coffee, then Janeway began.

"This is so hard, Seven. All I ask is that you listen, to everything I'm going to say. If you want to ask anything afterwards, I promise I will answer. I want to be honest with you, truly honest, because I – I love you."

Seven's eyebrows rose, but she sensed that Janeway did not want to be interrupted.

"The time we have spent together has been amazing, wonderful. Every minute with you, I find myself thinking how lucky I am to have found you and realize how I felt about you. You've given me a new hope; the hope that I will be happy again and not alone. Even the thought getting back to Earth somehow seems less important once we were together."

Janeway knew that she was mixing tenses, and for once she cared not one iota. It was the feelings behind her words that were important, not the grammatical correctness for which she used to be such a stickler. She knew that the meticulous mind of the ex-Borg would register the inconsistency, but it didn't matter.

"I still want that, Seven. I want more than anything to be your partner, to share my life with you, and to be physically close to you. When we have made love, it wasn't like anything I've experienced before, and that's because of the rest of it – our love for each other being so strong it pervades every aspect of our relationship; the physical attraction I feel for you, so much that I feel a tingle every time I lay eyes on you; the warmth and affection between us that is a mark of friendship as well as love.

"When you…tried to touch me the way you did, the way I touched you, it brought back memories of something that I haven't told you about, something that has affected me so much I've never thought about it all the time I've been in Command of Voyager. I don't know if you know about the time I was captured by Cardassians, during a battle that the Federation lost…"

The younger woman's head shook slightly, and Janeway continued.

"I was tortured," stated Janeway simply, as though she were talking about something or someone else. "They beat me, burned me, almost drowned me. I was cut, bruised, poisoned, stabbed, shocked – anything they could think of. Supposedly they were trying to make me give them information, but they knew I would never tell. It was for their own sadistic pleasure that they kept on hurting me.

"One night, after a particularly vicious attack, I was half-conscious in the filthy cell they kept me in. I heard noises, footsteps, but I couldn't lift my head up properly. All I could see were boots; dirty, scuffed, black boots, what looked like dozens of them. It was a group of Cardassian soldiers, drunk after celebrating a battle they had won. They took it in turns to rape me. The first one wasn't too rough, and I thought I could deal with it – after all, it was just another way of hurting my body. But then the next took his turn, and the one after that, each one more violent than the last.

"This happened again and again, most nights after that first time, until eventually I was rescued by a team of Starfleet Commandos. When they picked me up, I was screaming. All I registered was their muddy, black boots. I couldn't hear their voices, urging me to be quiet, telling me that they were there to save me, that they wouldn't hurt me, because I knew in my heart that they would rape me too, with their boots and their fists and their bodies. If it hadn't been for… There was a woman on the team, a female Commando every bit as tough as her male counterparts. They passed me to her as a last resort, and I remember noticing that her boots were smaller and shining. I stopped screaming, and passed out. The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital bed on Deep Space Four.

"I've never…been touched so intimately since the Cardassians took away all pleasure that I would ever have from it. They scarred me, inside and out – you've seen that, though you never asked about it. I felt scared when you wanted to make love to me, and everything came back to me, what they did on those awful nights. And I thought that if you knew about it, you wouldn't want me any more…"

Janeway's words dissolved as sobs wracked her body, hot tears trickling between her fingers as she buried her face in her shaking hands. Opposite the Captain, still sitting rigidly and unmoving, Seven's brow twitched and her lips thinned. Unseen by Janeway, the pale blue eyes shone with moisture, at the same time flashing with controlled anger for the men – beasts – who had harmed Kathryn Janeway in unspeakable ways. They would pay, Seven thought, not doubting for an instant that she could and would make sure of it. But now was not the time to contemplate revenge. Quietly she watched as her Captain wept, not knowing what, if anything, she should do.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

Though her Captain's sobs had quietened to a whimper, Seven-of-Nine remained extremely concerned. Almost half an hour had passed since the older woman had finished speaking, telling Seven of the horrors she had experienced whilst a prisoner of the Cardassians, yet Janeway's distress had not subsided and indeed had increased to the point where the small, hunched form was struggling to breathe. Seven wanted to move closer to her lover, to comfort her with soothing words and a soft embrace, but she remained where she was, not knowing whether her touch would make things worse. As Janeway choked once more, retching and crying out with pain, both real and remembered, Seven quickly crossed to the other side of the room and tapped her comm badge.

"Seven-of-Nine to the Doctor," she said quietly, eyes fixed on Janeway.

"What is it, Seven? Are you alright?" The Doctor's tone was worried, as it was rare that he was disturbed during the night unless Voyager was under attack.

"I am well, Doctor, however I am concerned for Captain Janeway. Please come to the Captain's quarters immediately."

"On my way."

Knowing that her actions were highly unorthodox, the young woman moved closer to the chair where Janeway sat, curled in on herself as though blocking out a physical adversary. Seconds passed, each one causing Seven's worry to increase, until the door chimed its welcome notes. The blonde opened the door and in strode Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram, carrying a case and wearing a business-like expression.

"Captain, it's the Doctor. Can you hear me?"

Janeway did not respond, though she was clearly conscious, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Holding her steady, with one hand grasping Janeway's shoulder, the Doctor scanned her quickly with a medical tricorder. Concern registered immediately on his face. "Seven," he barked, and the Borg was at his elbow instantly. "She's having convulsions - brought on, I suspect, by intense emotional trauma. Her body can't cope with it. Pick her up," ordered the hologram, and Seven obeyed, gently lifting the Captain's form in her arms as she had done on several occasions. Still the small size and weight surprised her, and Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway more tightly. She could feel the older woman's limbs trembling under her grasp.

"I'll transfer my program to sick bay and meet you there. Computer, emergency medical transport. Two to transport to sick bay, authorisation EMH kappa four sigma."

A familiar blue light enveloped Seven and Janeway as the transporter dematerialised their bodies, keeping their patterns intact before reforming them from their atoms in the middle of Voyager's sick bay.

**Part 2**

A steady trickle of patients had kept the Doctor busy, the usual minor injuries he encountered day after day, and he dispatched each one swiftly with a minimum of fuss. His main concern was Captain Janeway, who still slept on a biobed in one corner of sick bay, separated from view by an opaque blue force field. The medical hologram had treated the Captain for shock and sedated her, but that should have worn off hours ago. Concluding that Janeway must have been in need of rest, he left her alone and kept an eye on her discreetly through the use of a cortical monitor.

The doors parted with a gentle swishing sound, and Voyager's First Officer stalked through them, heading straight for the Captain's bed. The Doctor managed to intercept the large man en route.

"Good morning, Commander. The Captain is still sleeping, but I assure you that she had sustained no permanent damage. She'll be fine when she awakens, physically at least, however I think that counselling would be a good idea to work through some of the emotional issues."

"Thank you, Doctor. I don't know if you are aware of this, but Captain Janeway has spoken to me about her problems concerning her experience with the Cardassians. You don't have to beat around the bush." Chakotay's expression softened as he remembered speaking to his Captain, telling her about how he found out what had been done to her. She had appeared strong and resilient, but it was obviously part of the Captain-like façade that she maintained day after day. Only when she had truly opened up to Seven-of-Nine had she faced her demons. This time, the demons had won, but Chakotay knew that the Captain possessed a formidable character that was not easily cowed.

Facing the Commander, the hologram met his eyes in a silent understanding. "I'll contact you the moment she awakes, Commander."

"I'll be waiting," replied Chakotay, casting a last look towards the smoky blue screen hiding Janeway from view. "Where's Seven now?"

"I have no idea. After she and the Captain transported here, she left without a word. I haven't seen or heard from her since. Why?"

Ignoring the Doctor's question, Chakotay addressed the computer briskly. "Computer, locate Seven-of-Nine."

_Seven-of-Nine is on Holodeck Two._

"That's odd," remarked the Doctor. "I assumed she was on duty, or regenerating. Why isn't she here with the Captain, if she's not doing anything important?"

"I don't know, Doctor, and quite frankly it doesn't matter. What matters is that Captain Janeway is healthy and sound of mind. Maybe Seven not being here isn't a bad thing; it might give the Captain time to think things through."

"I tend to agree," the hologram admitted reluctantly, though he didn't usually approve of restricting visits from friends of patients unless it was absolutely necessary. "But that's up to the Captain. If she wants to see Seven, I'm not going to stop it. Of course, Seven would have to actually be here, which she seems to be avoiding at the moment…"

"I'm going to have a word with Seven," Chakotay answered decisively, nodding his thanks. "Let me know when there's any change."

He left sick bay and made for the nearest turbolift, wondering exactly what the enigmatic ex-Borg was up to.

**Part 3**

Lunch was an unusually subdued affair for the three officers sharing a table in a quiet corner of the mess hall. There was none of the customary banter and gossip, even from B'Elanna Torres who was notoriously difficult to subdue. Swirling a spoon round a bowl of greenish-grey soup, the half-Klingon let out a small sigh. It was barely audible, but her partner had been watching with some concern.

"Everything alright, B'Elanna?" Paris asked gently. Torres gave a slight nod, then raised her head to meet the helmsman's eyes.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, surprising Paris and Harry Kim, who had also said very little. "I know the Captain will be fine, eventually. It's actually Seven that I'm more worried about."

This seemed a curious statement given that it was Janeway, not Seven, who was in sick bay, prompting Kim to speak. "How do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward interestedly. It had been years since the young, green Operations Officer had unwisely mentioned that he found the ex-Borg attractive, but was still teased about it regularly. Kim felt his cheeks reddening at the memory.

"I don't know that I should…mention this," began Torres slowly, clearly intending to anyway, "but Seven came to see me this morning in Engineering-"

"You know," interrupted Harry, suddenly pushing back his chair and smiling with a tinge of embarrassment, "on second thoughts, I think this is none of my business. I'll catch you later."

Voyager's most junior bridge officer left the table, and Paris and Torres were alone. It occurred to Tom that none of this was any of their businesses, yet he was curious to hear what his partner had to say. "Go on," he prodded, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"Well," continued the Klingon, "I can't remember exactly, but Seven said something about wanting to brush up her combat skills-"

"What?" exclaimed Paris incredulously. "She's got more 'combat skills' in her little finger than everyone else on board put together!"

Torres scowled impatiently. Being interrupted was not something she was accustomed to, and it was beginning to annoy her. "Are you going to listen, or just butt in every five seconds?"

"Sorry."

"Okay. So she was asking if I knew any good holodeck programs that she could use, so I told her about the usual ones, you know, Starfleet training programs, Klingon warrior drills, martial arts, boxing and the rest. She didn't seem interested in any of those, asked me if there were any Maquis simulations that would 'test ones skills in more realistic combat situations'." Torres stopped and took a long gulp from her cup, setting it down carefully. It was clear that Torres was reluctant to go on, and Paris asked another question, probing gently.

"So did you give her any programs?"

"Yes," B'Elanna replied. "I didn't think until afterwards. Tom, I know that I haven't told you exactly what all this is about, but she's obviously got it in for the Cardassians in a big way."

"Haven't we all?" said Paris, earning a glare from the temperamental engineer.

"You didn't see her, Tom. She looked, I don't know, crazy or something. Thank God we're out here and not in the Alpha quadrant, or I think we'd have to lock Seven up to stop her murdering every Cardassian she could find. And I don't mean like the Maquis – it's personal for her." Torres's voice was becoming steadily more agitated, and Paris hushed her softly, placing a restraining hand on his partner's arm.

"Maybe Seven just needs to get it out of her system. It's only a holodeck program; she isn't going to harm anyone."

"Or," replied B'Elanna pointedly, "maybe she's just practising for the real thing, for when we do make it back. Maybe we should tell someone - Chakotay, or Tuvok."

Paris knew that the Klingon was upset, for normally she was the last person to suggest taking matters to her superiors. "Relax, B'Elanna. We're hardly going to get back to Earth next week. Let's just…see how things go. I'm sure that when the Captain is back to normal she'll sort things out-"

"And what if she doesn't get 'back to normal'!" hissed Torres, eyes flashing green with latent anger. She didn't mean to direct her frustrations at Tom, but he took it good-naturedly nevertheless.

"Then we'll deal with that too," he replied with a grin. "Anyway, Chakotay will probably be going to talk to Seven today; if she's running a Cardassian bloodbath in the holodeck I think even he might notice something's wrong."

Torres returned Tom's grin with a smile of her own, briefly squeezing the helmsman's hand before pulling away, which for Torres, who disliked public shows of affection, was a significant gesture. "You're right. Now, I'd better get back to engineering, and don't you have to fly this ship or something?"

Laughing now, the couple made their way out of the mess hall and parted in the corridor outside.

"See you later," called Torres over her shoulder.

"Your turn to cook!" answered Paris, throwing up one hand in a jaunty wave.

**Part 4**

Chakotay's sensitive nose detected the pungent odour of fresh Cardassian blood the moment he entered Holodeck 2. It was a scent he would never forget and it brought back vivid flashes of memory; vicious battles, endless nights hiding out in the most unforgiving environments, evading capture by roving bands of enemy soldiers. So many times in his Maquis career he had witnessed death, on many occasions by his own hand.

Heavily forested terrain surrounded him, decaying plant matter foul and nauseating, even more so than the trails of blood that weaved across the flora. As he followed a path, Chakotay unconsciously lowered his stance, creeping silently through the underbrush, ears straining to catch the slightest sounds. Ahead, a flash of grey caught his eye, followed by another, then another. The large man gasped as suddenly, like stars becoming visible in the sky at dusk, bodies appeared on the ground all around him.

Limbs, severed and bloody, lay scattered around the clearing. Torsos stood out against the grass, mutilated almost beyond recognition, dripping with gore and decapitated, the heads yards away from the stumps from which they had been hacked. The stench of death permeated the air, making it so heavy that Chakotay had difficulty in drawing breath. He had seen the aftermath of bloody fights and fierce battles, but this was different. This was carnage; mechanical, deliberate mass murder with breathtaking violence. The First Officer found that he was shivering as he surveyed the scene, taking in the range of methods used in butchering the holographic Cardassians.

Beyond the clearing, through a stand of tall, silver-coloured trees, a movement caught Chakotay's eye. He froze, peering intently, then heard a sound that was definitely not from a Cardassian soldier. Straightening, he walked towards the noise, a quiet sobbing that became clearer as he approached. Seven-of-Nine sat on a fallen tree trunk, her head bowed so that only her hunched body was visible. She was crying, her slender shoulders quivering. The bear-like man stepped up to the young woman, pausing for a moment whilst he took in her torn, dirty uniform, covered in ugly, dark red stains from the neck down to the grey boots that the ex-Borg wore.

Seven lifted her head, revealing a face caked in blood, with pale tracks where the tears had streaked down her cheeks. She was no longer sobbing, but she still shook as Chakotay took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He walked her back to the holodeck doors, ending the program with a soft command. The First Officer knew that they would have to speak about what had happened, but there would be time for that later.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

As usual, the observation lounge was empty. Chakotay had often thought that if the small room were to have a bar, with maybe some comfy chairs and games tables, it would probably become the most popular relaxation space on board. Windows accounted for over sixty percent of wall space, affording a stunning panoramic view both fore and aft. The décor was modest yet tasteful, in darker shades of pastel colours that the First Officer found soothing, though as he sat on a wide chair, facing Seven-of-Nine who was regarding him coolly from her own seat, his surroundings were the last thing on his mind.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" Chakotay began bluntly, a manner which predictably had no discernable effect on the ex-Borg's demeanour.

"I merely wished to assess the strength and combat effectiveness of an enemy species. That is all, Commander." Seven spoke the truth, but with an economy that a Ferengi would have been proud of.

Chakotay took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before speaking again. When he did so, he leaned forward slightly, resting his huge hands on his knees. "Alright, I'll accept that. But last time I looked, the Cardassians weren't your enemy. In fact, the only Alpha Quadrant species you have encountered are the ones on board Voyager, aside from those that the Borg assimilated, which hardly counts. Look," he continued, meeting Seven's ice-blue eyes without blinking, "I know this is to do with the Captain-"

"That is a private matter," interrupted the young woman forcefully, her expression hardening instantly. "I do not wish to discuss it."

"Well, I do," replied the First Officer evenly. "I know how angry you must feel, how desperately you want to get revenge on those who hurt Captain Janeway – I understand that. But we are nowhere near Cardassian space, and to harbour such feelings will only do harm, to you and to the Captain. Please, Seven, let it go."

"I shall not. However, I will…curtail my holodeck activities and refrain from thinking about the matter until we reach the Alpha Quadrant. Then, I will find the men who attacked Captain Janeway and kill them."

Chakotay looked away for a moment, his own emotions threatening to get the better of him. After all, he had held similar thoughts not that many years ago. "It won't solve anything," he said softly. "I felt the same way, for a long time, I know what I'm talking about."

"I disagree."

"You probably have a long time to think about it, Seven."

It was Seven's turn to pause. She had detected something in the Commander's voice that made her reconsider what she was about to say, and instead she turned her intense gaze back on Chakotay. "You care for the Captain, do you not? You wish that the Cardassians responsible for harming her could be punished?"

"I care for her deeply," he answered, slowly beginning to regret that he had begun this conversation and looking for some way to end it quickly, "and it's true I'd like to see the perpetrators punished for their actions. But it's not going to happen, Seven."

"We will find a way back to the Alpha Quadrant. When we do, will you help me?" The question was a simple one yet laden with meaning, but before he could properly consider his reply Chakotay found himself agreeing to the request.

"Yes. I will help you find the Cardassians and bring them to justice."

"And if they were to have an…unfortunate accident in the process?"

"I wouldn't lose any sleep," replied Chakotay grimly, and he meant it. For a man who had in essence just agreed to assist with a lynching, he felt remarkably calm.

**Part 2**

Janeway's legs dangled over the side of the biobed as she sat patiently, listening to the Doctor's warnings of dire consequences should she even think about returning to duty. The prescription was several days' leave, no stressful activities ("Darn it, I really wanted to try out that new targ-wrestling program," Janeway had sarcastically replied) and most importantly Janeway was not to 'bottle up her emotions' but to talk about her experiences and how she was feeling.

Eventually, the Captain had had enough, and raised a hand to stop the holographic physician's lecture. "I understand, Doctor, really. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my quarters, take a nice, hot bath, order Neelix to bring me something delicious then have a relaxing evening with a book."

"That sounds acceptable," approved the Doctor. "Remember, when you want to talk, I'll be here. I'm well acquainted with many types of therapeutic counselling," he raised his voice as Janeway strode purposefully towards the doors, "and you can contact me any time!"

The doors slid shut, and Voyager's Chief Medical Officer gave a disgruntled snort. "People ought to be more grateful for what I do," he muttered, stomping across to his office.

**Part 3**

Torres called for the visitor to come in, her tone distracted as she surveyed her latest attempt at making a pie. Deciding that, for a change, she would actually cook something rather than program the replicator, the engineer had replicated the necessary ingredients and obtained a recipe from the ship's database. The picture with the recipe showed a beautiful, steaming dish, the gravy a delicious-looking meaty brown and a golden crust lovingly crafted on top. Torres's effort was an insipid grey-brown, and the sickly-yellow pastry sagged in the middle.

"You used an incorrect ratio of butter to flour," Seven informed the Klingon as she peered over B'Elanna's shoulder. "Reduce the butter content by ten percent. Also, this cut of beef is unsuitable for this dish. Use a less tender cut and cook it for longer."

A spoon was slammed down on the counter, and Torres whirled to face her helpful critic. "How the hell would you know that?" she demanded, placing her floury hands on her hips. She detected a hint of a smile on the Borg's impassive features, which annoyed her even more.

"I have included cooking as part of my studies of human culture. Would you like me to assist you?"

"Go ahead," declared Torres, throwing her arms up in defeat. "Was there a reason for you showing up in my quarters in the middle of the afternoon, aside from the cookery lesson?"

Seven set about her task efficiently, talking as she worked seemingly effortlessly. "I wish to know more regarding the Captain's capture by Cardassians. The Maquis obtained classified information on Starfleet activities, and I assume that you are familiar with the details."

"That's true, Seven, but I can't talk about that! It's classified for a reason." B'Elanna was shocked that the young woman would even ask such a thing, yet Seven was not deterred.

"I need to know what happened if I am to help the Captain. You know that I care for her a great deal – please help me by telling me what you know."

Torres was caught in two minds. Though she was a notorious gossip, she never shared details that would truly hurt someone, nor did she casually throw out classified information during friendly chats. But she could see the other woman's point, and Torres knew that the Captain would need all the help she could get. "Okay," she said finally, hopping onto a stool and leaning her elbows on the counter top. "What do you want to know?"

"How was Captain Janeway captured?"

"She was leading an away mission on a planet called Rathos II. The Captain was a commander at the time, serving aboard the _USS Billings_. Scans showed the planet to be uninhabited, but it was rumoured that there was a secret Cardassian laboratory hidden there where a Federation scientist was being held. It was a rescue mission. The away team located the prisoner and released her, and were on their way back to the shuttlecraft when they were ambushed by a Cardassian patrol.

"Captain Janeway ordered the rest of the team to proceed to the shuttle. She stayed behind to cover them and create a diversion. Her team escaped, but when they flew over the area to search for her, they were forced to retreat – it seemed that the Cardassians had better anti-aircraft weapons than anyone expected. When another team returned in a heavily-armoured shuttlecraft, there was no sign of their Commander."

Seven-of-Nine said nothing, continuing to chop and peel and slice as the beef and vegetable pie began to take shape. When it was clear that Torres was expected to continue, the Klingon did so. She had decided not to hold back, for Seven's expression told her that she wanted it all, no matter how distressing.

"The rest of the report I read came from what Captain Janeway told the medical staff who treated her and from her debriefing by Starfleet. At the time her memory was affected, but according to Starfleet the information is accurate. She was held in a makeshift cell – there were no prison facilities there. She was fed and given enough water to drink, for the Cardassians knew that a Starfleet Officer was more valuable to them alive than dead. But that was all; no exercise, no washing facilities, no toilet, just a bucket that she had to empty into a stinking drain in a corner of the room.

"They demanded information from the Captain, such as the locations of Starfleet bases, military technology, codes, the usual. She refused to give them anything, so they started to beat her. She still refused. I won't describe everything they did, but if you can think of a way to cause terror and pain in a human being, chances are the Cardassians did it. According to the Doctors who treated the Captain, she wouldn't have survived much longer.

"She had been raped, brutally, every way possible, so violently that she needed surgery to repair the damage. Cardassians are strong and powerful, and human women aren't built to accommodate them. The Captain refused to say any more, and when Starfleet sent a ship to investigate it was attacked by several Cardassian vessels and forced to leave the system. However, a Maquis ship went to the planet after the reports were obtained and managed to get through. The facility was abandoned, but the Maquis Captain discovered information that could identify the Cardassian Commanders, though not the low-level soldiers."

Seven's voice was low and even as she spoke for the first time since B'Elanna had begun. "I require that information."

Torres shook her head emphatically. "No way, Seven. I don't think that's a good idea."

"I could obtain the information in other ways," the ex-Borg stated, causing an alarmed expression to appear on the engineer's face. "However, I will not do so. Once Voyager reaches the Alpha Quadrant I will be able to utilise other sources. Now," she continued, inspecting her handiwork with an appraising eye, "observe carefully, so that next time you will be able to successfully make the pastry you require."

Torres did as she was told, and nothing more was said about the Captain. The two women chatted, and bizarrely the Klingon found herself enjoying Seven's company. 'Perhaps she isn't so bad after all,' mused Torres. 'After all, the Captain must see something in her.'

**Part 4**

Janeway took in the familiar sight of her quarters and sighed gently. She was glad to be there, away from sick bay and the Doctor, from being coddled and prodded and made to eat when she didn't feel like it. Crossing to the replicator, she ordered a pot of tea, and was carrying it over to the low table when she noticed a package atop her previously clear dining table. Setting the tray down, the Captain picked up the item, which appeared to have been wrapped by demented chimps. Sticky tape was lavishly employed, and in the end Janeway had to resort to using a pocket knife to free the contents.

Inside was a plastic bag containing jigsaw pieces, around five hundred in Janeway's estimation. Eagerly, she tipped them out onto the table. As she began to turn them the right way up, she noticed that on the reverse side of a good proportion of the pieces were words and letters, written in a hand she recognised with a jolt. The rounded, childlike lettering could only have been done by Seven-of-Nine.

The tea all but forgotten, Janeway attacked the jigsaw, which appeared to be a lake scene judging by the number of blue pieces of varying shades, her haste due to her anticipation of reading Seven's words. Of course, she could have just scanned the pieces with a tricorder and run the information through the computer, but that felt like cheating – something Janeway very, very rarely did.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Part 1**

"Evening, Captain. Did you have a good afternoon?"

The observation lounge was a veritable hive of activity, for in addition to Chakotay and Janeway there were a dozen people seated in the comfortable chairs that the First Officer had personally replicated the previous day from his own replicator rations. All were enjoying the spectacular views afforded to them since Voyager was cruising at impulse speed. Ongoing tests on the warp drive were routine but prevented the ship from going anywhere quickly unless an emergency arose. A replicator had been installed, on Chakotay's orders, in one corner of the spacious room, restricted to non-alcoholic beverages for the moment. Soft classical music drifted through the air, adding to the calming atmosphere.

Captain Janeway appeared composed and relaxed, which indeed she was. The emotional upset of the previous day had now subsided, and although she wanted to return to duty she recognised the need for a few days R&R. "I did, thank you. Nothing like a hot bath to restore ones spirits, and those bath salts Seven gave me are truly excellent. You should try one," added Janeway playfully, noting the dark circles under her friend's eyes that told her he had been doing more worrying than sleeping. She hoped he hadn't been worrying about her, but suspected that was part of it.

Chakotay grinned, which only served to highlight his tired features. "Thanks, but I'll pass. There's something unsettling about putting a Borg cube in the bath. So, whilst you're gone…"

"It's just routine – make sure the sensor tests are completed, plus outstanding personnel reports from heads of department, and I've asked Tuvok for a full security analysis in light of the alien intrusion incident. Oh, could you review the night rosters, make sure that the crew are happy with the shift, and if not rotate them with the middle shift. And the cleaners – we never talk about them, yet they keep this ship looking, well, shipshape. What can we do for them?"

The First Officer smiled again. "Make less mess," he suggested, rather less than helpfully, and Janeway scowled. "The crewman who cleans the bathrooms on Deck 9 is by all accounts a saint. Let's allocate them some extra holodeck time. Do you know that as officers, you and I get more holodeck time in one week than they get in a month?"

"What?" Janeway was stunned. It was the First Officer's job to keep track of duty rotas, holodeck time and leave, and the Captain had not given the matter a second – or even first – thought. Everything aboard Voyager was done as per Starfleet regulations, and she had never questioned those until now. "As of today – in fact, as of last week – rearrange the holodeck allocations so that all crew members receive an equal share based on their duty hours. Keep ten percent of run time for necessary simulations, and divide up the rest. But, er, make sure Holodeck One is free today and tomorrow."

"Will do. That's a big gesture, Kathryn – are you sure you want to take time away from the higher ranking personnel?"

"Absolutely," Janeway declared. "Some people are getting a bit too big for their boots, and others are barely acknowledged for the work they do. You know, Chakotay, a crewmember cleans the corridor outside my quarters every day, and I don't even know who it is. Well, no more. When I get back from my 'R&R', I'll make it my mission to find out."

"Speaking of your R&R," Chakotay started, glancing out of the window and away from his Captain's glare, "You haven't told me what you're doing. Care to enlighten me?" His tone was light, the mood jovial, which caused Janeway to laugh for the first time in a while.

"I got a message from Seven yesterday, on the back of a jigsaw would you believe? I spent three hours fitting it together-"

"Why didn't you just scan it with a tricorder?" asked Chakotay.

Janeway shot a look at him, the meaning of which was plain. "That would have been cheating. Anyway, she invited me to the holodeck. But I'm still not sure if I should go – we haven't talked about, you know, what happened, and I'm not sure if this is the right way to go about it."

"I think you should go with her. You can talk, or not – it doesn't matter. But you will hopefully be able to regain some of the closeness that you shared. And there will be no interruptions, nothing to get in the way. I promise," he added, remembering previous occasions where Janeway had been recalled from leave. Once, the emergency had turned out to be nothing more than a malfunctioning sensor relay, but the Captain had been summoned from a particularly enjoyable shore leave when the sensors had showed twenty Borg cubes doing the fandango around Voyager. Chakotay did not want a repeat of that experience.

"Alright, I think I will. She said to pack warm clothes, and I suspect that the picture on the jigsaw is where I'll be going. There was a lake – do you think we'll be going fishing?"

"It's your holiday," joked Chakotay as they both rose from their chairs. The lounge had grown busier still, and several people had formed a queue for the replicator. 'Definitely need a bar here,' decided Chakotay as he left, keeping the thought to himself as Janeway followed closely behind.

**Part 2**

Cold, crisp air touched Janeway's neck and hands, and she pulled her scarf up tighter. From where she stood after entering the holodeck she could smell the delicious aroma of meat, grilling on a barbecue despite the sub-zero temperatures. A welcoming light glowed in the near distance, and the Captain began to walk in that direction through the ankle-deep snow that covered the path she followed, markers at either side preventing the unwary traveller from plunging headlong into deep drifts off to either side.

Approaching a timber-built cottage which nestled in a sheltered clearing, Janeway took a moment to watch as her friend stood over a sizzling charcoal grill, holding out bare hands to warm them whilst she watched the food slowly cook. Seven-of-Nine wore a heavy jacket, lined with a soft fur substitute, along with thick trousers and sturdy, grey boots. Her fine, blonde hair was tucked under a stylish cap, leaving her neck bare, and Janeway's heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell on the pale flesh. She must have made a noise too, for the younger woman looked up suddenly, a smile radiant on her reddened face.

"Captain," Seven said in greeting, beckoning to Janeway who stepped closer, welcoming the heat from the grill. "I am pleased that you have arrived. Dinner is almost ready – I hope that my selection is suitable."

"Smells great, Seven. What have we got?" Janeway wasn't lying, for the meaty aroma that wafted up was that of a carnivore's heaven.

"Steak, medium rare, along with grilled sausage and chicken, sautéed mushrooms and onions, potato salad and a red wine of Mr. Neelix's selection."

"Sounds wonderful. What can I do?" Janeway started forward, eager to help, but was waved away by the Borg.

"Please, Captain," Seven began, shepherding the older woman away, towards the door to the cottage from which a flickering amber light danced, "I want to cook for you. Perhaps you could pour the wine?"

It was phrased as a suggestion but Janeway knew that it would be wise in this instance to simply do as she was told, an unusual feeling for a Captain who had been in sole command of her vessel for five years with no interference from higher authorities. Actually, Janeway thought, it made a pleasant change. She left Seven outside and entered the small room which contained a sofa, a tiny dining table with two chairs, and little else. A narrow, wooden staircase hugged one of the walls which were bare stone, as was the floor which bore an antique yet attractive rug. At the far end stood a large fireplace, almost too wide and tall to be in keeping with the rest of the cottage. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth and reminded Janeway of long, cold winters from her youth.

The table was set, utensils aligned meticulously, parallel to the edges of the thick wooden top. Janeway picked up the wine, already open, and poured two glasses. Her hand shook a little as she watched the dark red liquid flow and splash up the sides, and suddenly the whole of her body felt numb yet began to tremble as bloody images flashed through her mind. About to drop the bottle, Janeway felt it being removed from her hand, then two long arms were wrapped around her from behind, holding her tight.

"I will be here for you, Captain," Seven's voice whispered in her ear, the taller woman's breath warm on Janeway's neck. "I love you."

Janeway relaxed, leaning back into the strong, comforting embrace. "I think it's time you started calling me Kathryn," she replied softly, turning her head and nuzzling the bare skin of her lover's slender neck.

"As you wish…Kathryn."


End file.
